Words
by Emma Lorane Cresswell
Summary: "Use what talents you possess; the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best."-Henry Van Dyke. AU where Enjolras has a severe stutter and is too shy to become a leader of the revolution. Prepare to be smothered in Enjonine. Two-shot. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: That moment when you're determined to actually get to bed early, but once you're in bed you start thinking about Enjonine and how things might've worked out if Enjolras was too shy to be the leader of the revolution (therefore actually able to notice Éponine) and then you get a random idea and you need to write it down, so you stay up for a good portion of the night to write out this idea even though it's not as good as other stuff you've written. Well, that moment was last night. I just had to get this idea out of my head, so I wrote it in my notebook. But then I figured, _Hey, I have no shame. Why don't I just post this fic even if it is terrible?_ So, I've transcribed about half of what I wrote from notebook to the computer, and I'm too lazy to do the other half right now, so that'll come tomorrow or the day after. Who knows, maybe someone will have pity and leave a kind review. *releases notebook like a dove* Fly free, my writing! Maybe someone will like you! Anyway, I'm rambling. I'll shut up now. Hope you like.**

 **Disclaimer: Last I checked, I'm not Victor Hugo. Therefore, I don't own Les Mis. I wish I did, but I don't.**

* * *

When one is too ashamed to talk, they become an expert at listening. Enjolras was certainly no exception. He had learned at an early age that the best way to avoid ridicule was to keep his mouth shut. So, in replacement to speaking words, he listened to words. He observed everything and everyone. He knew all the names of the Amis de l'ABC and their personalities, though scarcely half of them even knew his name. He was almost like a ghost, having the ability to hide from his friends so quickly, and then appear the second he was called. But ghost Enjolras was certainly a better alternative to stammering Enjolras.

The evening that Enjolras became acquainted with Éponine Thenardier was not unlike any other. Enjolras was assuming his role as the revolutionary ghost, staying in the dark corner of the café as the others moved around him, not acknowledging his existence.

At one point, Combeferre sat down in the chair next to him. "How are you, Enjolras?"

"F-fine, th-anks. A-a-and y-ou?" He replied, wincing at his halted speech.

"I'm fine," Combeferre paused. "Do you care to join us? We could really use your opinion."

Enjolras shook his head. Combeferre would make the same offer every night because Combeferre was one of the few people Enjolras felt comfortable talking to. He was the only friend of Enjolras's that had the patience to listen to his slow speech, the only one who knew Enjolras's thoughts. And though Enjolras greatly appreciated his friend's sentiment, he declined the offer. Mostly because he knew the others weren't as patient as Combeferre.

Combeferre nodded, "Well, if you feel like joining, you know where to find me."

Enjolras gave a close-mouthed smile and nodded. Though he was probably one of the most passionate revolutionaries in the room, he couldn't bear the thought of speaking in front of others.

Combeferre left and Enjolras was once again left alone to his thoughts and a glass of wine. It was during this moment of solitude that he spied her.

Dark, tangled hair. A ragged dress. Dirt streaked across her face. Not entirely beautiful, but enough to catch one's gaze. She stood in the corner, trying to avoid the throng of men. Her ratted hair covered most of her face, but Enjolras swore he saw her brown eyes glance his way.

She must have caught Enjolras staring for she began to pick her way through the crowd to his table. Embarrassed, Enjolras straightened himself, averting his gaze back to the drink in his hand. But apparently it was not enough to deter her. She paused right in front of his table.

" _Excusez-moi_ , m'sieur," she said in a small, meek voice. Enjolras looked up at her through his golden curls. "Do you know of a m'sieur Marius?"

He gave a small, curt nod.

"Do you happen to know where he may be?"

Swallowing nervously, Enjolras motioned to the table where Marius was sitting with Joly and Grantaire. She glanced at the table and weakly smiled, "Merci, monsieur."

Again, Enjolras nodded. And with that, the girl made her way across the room to the auburn-haired daydreamer. Once Marius saw her, he practically leapt out of his chair. They exchanged a few words before the girl lead Marius out of the café.

Enjolras looked back at his glass. It had only been a brief, one-sided conversation. But his heart was still pounding, he couldn't erase the image of the girl's face from his mind. The damage had already been done.

* * *

Éponine sighed, leaning back against the stone wall. She had spent the past hour outside the garden wall, listening to Marius and Cosette profess their love for each other. Normally, Éponine would've thought such conversations would be sweet to listen to, but this one made her feel sick. Often she found herself closing her eyes and pretending the words he spoke were for her. The thought made her smile. But then she opened her eyes and found herself back in reality, that momentary bliss already fleeing from her.

Why she ever showed Marius where Cosette lived, she didn't know. But whatever the reason, she was beginning to regret it.

Éponine heard the sound of the gate scratch against the ground as it was being opened. Quickly, she stood up and dusted off her skirt though it was still dirty. The shadow of Marius came around the corner and gave a startled gasp upon seeing Éponine.

"Oh, 'Ponine. I didn't see you there," he said, giving a weak laugh. "Have you been waiting here this whole time?"

"No, I wandered around for a little," she lied.

"Ah, I see," he said, beginning to walk away from the house on Rue Plumet. Éponine followed.

They walked in silence for a time before Marius dreamily sighed. "Thank you, Éponine, for showing me where Cosette lives. She truly is the most remarkable person I've ever met."

Éponine said nothing as a pang of envy stabbed her side. She just kept walking. Marius took that as a prompting to continue. "Really, I can't describe it, being in love. You're just so…so happy. I can't imagine life without her."

Éponine sighed despite her determination not to show any emotion towards Marius's lovesick rant. But Marius only misinterpreted her sigh. "Oh, don't worry, 'Ponine. I know there's someone out there for you."

 _If only you knew_ , Éponine thought to herself as they approached Marius's housing. They waved farewell to each other as Marius broke stride to enter the house, leaving Éponine to continue onward by herself.

 _If only you knew, Marius. If only you knew._

* * *

It was another week before Enjolras saw the girl again. He had mostly forgotten her, the exception being those rare moments when he'd recall her face and ponder on who she was and where she had gone, but he didn't dare ask Marius where he could find her. Now, with her presence gone from his mind, he was once again living life normally.

But fate would not let him rest easy.

It was early morning. So early that the sky was still dark and the streets were empty. Enjolras found that he couldn't sleep. After a few hours of tossing and turning, he gave in and left his bed, getting dressed and exiting his house. For no particular reason, he found himself strolling around the streets of Paris. Enjolras wasn't typically one who wandered, but for some reason he couldn't determine, his mind seemed to be rebelling against what was logical.

Eventually he found his way down Rue Plumet, a street he wasn't as familiar with. He stopped before a large, old house with an iron number fifty-five outside the gate. Realizing that he wasn't doing anything useful, Enjolras shook himself out of his stupor and decided that he would head home and try to get some sleep before dawn came.

And that was when he saw her. Dressed in the same rags as before, her bare arms dirty and her long hair covering her face. She sat on the dirty ground, leaning against the brick wall surrounding the old home. There was no mistaking that she was the same girl. Enjolras nervously swallowed. She hadn't noticed him yet, maybe he could slip away before she...

Too late. She shifted her focus from the ground to the man standing a few feet away from her. Startled, she quickly stood up and brushed off her skirt. "Oh, monsieur. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there."

 _It's fine, I'm sorry I startled you_ , is what Enjolras wanted to say, but he knew his speech would betray him. So, he simply remained silent, looking away from the girl in embarrassment.

The girl was slightly confused by his lack of answer, so she simply kept talking. "I don't even know why I'm out this late. Nobody else is out but us, I suppose. Do you know why you're out this late?"

Enjolras shrugged.

"Me too. I guess I just couldn't sleep. I'm Éponine, by the way. Éponine Thenardier," she continued to ramble.

 _Éponine._ Now Enjolras had a name.

Éponine paused. "What's your name?"

Enjolras stiffened. He couldn't avoid this question. Even if he tried, he would end up looking like a fool either way. Sighing, Enjolras closed his eyes and willed the name to form on his tongue. Please, don't mess up, he thought to himself before the name left his lips. "E-En-jol-r-ras."

He winced at his severe stutter, now worse than usual because of his nervousness. He saw Éponine's eyes widen in mild surprise. Enjolras was used to this look. He looked like a man who knew his way around, a man who could speak firmly. But once he opened his mouth, everyone around him would bear the look of surprise and disappointment at his stammering speech.

Éponine, however, recovered quickly. "Enjolras?" He nodded.

"Well...that's a lovely name."

He shrugged in indifference.

Éponine pursed her lips together. "You don't talk much, do you?" "N-not o-o-often," Enjolras replied, pressing through the words. "O-on-ly to C-co-combe-ferre and G-g-gr...gr-gr..."

"Grantaire?" Éponine offered.

Enjolras nodded his head, ashamed that he couldn't finish one simply word. It was true that he only talked to Combeferre and Grantaire. Combeferre because he was patient enough, Grantaire because he was too drunk to care. But Grantaire also had become extremely protective of Enjolras as their friendship grew. Enjolras was beginning to believe that his friend's affection was more than an alcohol-filled impulse.

Éponine gave a weak smile. "Well, I'm flattered then. If you don't talk to most people, that must mean I'm not most people."

Enjolras found himself smiling. He appreciated how lighthearted was trying to make the situation appear.

Taking a deep breath, Enjolras began to speak again. "W-what a-are y-y-you-"

"What am I doing?" Éponine finished. "I honestly don't know. I come here every night, really. Though I can't imagine why..."

Enjolras got the impression that she did know why, but he wasn't about to ask her.

Éponine sighed. "I just can't seem to sleep at night as of late."

"M-me to-o."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Th-the Re-vo-lu-tion."

Realization dawned on her face. "Oh, yeah. I suppose that makes sense. The revolution…"

"Wh-why-"

"Why can't I sleep? I've just been thinking too much, I guess," she paused, taking a moment to look at the night sky. "Besides, I like wandering around at night. It's easy to forget my problems when there's no one out but me."

Enjolras nodded in agreement. It was easy to forget who he was when he was by himself.

They stood there in silence for a few minutes more, staring at the starry sky before Éponine sighed. "Well, I should probably leave you. I don't want to be a bother."

"N-n-no, yo-you're not-"

"I'm not a bother?" Éponine interjected. But she began to blush the moment the words left her mouth. "Sorry, I keep cutting you off. It's extremely rude."

Enjolras gave a bright smile. "Y-you c-c-can say it fas-ter th-than I-I-I c-can."

Éponine laughed. "Well, if you don't mind…"

He shook his head, a small smile still upon his lips. He didn't mind at all. It was nice to hear someone say the words for him.

Éponine laughed again. "And to think that I'm typically the quiet one…I'll admit, I've probably said more words to you tonight then I did all of last year."

They both quietly laughed over that statement. Éponine sighed contently. "I haven't been this happy in a really long time."

"M-me too," Enjolras agreed.

Éponine's smile dimmed. "But in all honesty, I should get going before my father notices I am gone."

Enjolras's heart plummeted. "W-will I-I-I s-see y-you a-gain?"

"I'm sure our paths will cross again."

Relief flooded through Enjolras. For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt drawn to Éponine. He felt like he could actually talk to her and she would actually listen-a rare occurance among Enjolras and his acquaintances.

"Well, I suppose I should get going," Éponine said, the reluctance clear in her voice. "I guess I'll see you around."

Enjolras nodded. "S-see you."

And with that, they parted ways. Enjolras walking back towards his home, Éponine walking back towards hers. Both sad that the encounter had to end, but both hopeful for future meetings.

* * *

The next time the pair ran into each other, it was Éponine who spied Enjolras first. It had been a few days since their meeting outside Cosette's house. And since then, Éponine scarcely daydreamed about Marius anymore. Yes, she still felt something for him. But the deep yearning had dimmed to a mild desire. And now she found it easier to walk past the house on Rue Plumet.

Instead of thinking about Marius, Éponine found herself thinking about Enjolras. The first time she saw him, she had no idea about his stutter. She merely thought he was an extremely timid boy. But now that she knew of his slow speech, she couldn't imagine him without it. Yes, it was sometimes hard to understand what he was saying, and it took patience to listen to him stammer through the whole sentence. But Éponine found she rather enjoyed listening to him speak. It was like listening to music. Enjolras's sporadic staccato notes were much different to the long legato notes Éponine was used to. But there was still a melody and it was still beautiful.

It was this thought that accompanied Éponine as she walked down the streets of Paris, humming to herself. She had nowhere to be, and now that she was mostly free of Marius's enchantment over her heart, she didn't particularly care about what to do.

Éponine walked away from the crowded streets into a quieter, less urban area of Paris. She knew Paris well, though she wasn't as accustomed to this part because of the lack of people. Why go where people aren't? You can't do business if no one's there. But due to the aforementioned thoughts turning through Éponine's head, she decided to do something different and more thoroughly inspect the section of city.

It was then that she saw him. Sitting under a tree that was just off of the main road. His neatly combed golden curls and bright red jacket were unmistakable. There he sat, hunched over a book in his hands.

If it were Marius, Éponine might've timidly approached, not making her presence known. But it wasn't Marius. Gathering her courage, Éponine marched over to where the man sat and called out his name in greeting.

His gaze snapped up from his book to where she was standing. A grin broke out across his face as he snapped his novel closed. "É-É-Éponine."

Her name sounded lovely in his voice, stammer and all. She beamed at him, taking a seat in the grassy area next to him. "It's been a while."

He nodded in agreement, still brightly smiling.

Éponine looked down at the book in his hands. "Shakespeare's Sonnets?"

He blushed. "A-a-a rec-o-men-da-tion."

"From Jehan?" Éponine guessed.

Enjolras looked surprised, but nodded. "Y-you kn-know Je-han?"

This time, Éponine blushed. "I know everyone. Observing is what I do."

A small smile pulled at the corner of Enjolras's mouth. "I-I-I s-see."

Éponine took the book from Enjolras's hands and began to flip through the clean pages of the book. She had never read something like this before. Everything she had read had a purpose to it, it was practical. But Éponine got the impression that Enjolras felt the same way about reading as she did.

"Is it good?"

He gave a reluctant nod, ashamed to like something as frivolous as poetry. "B-beau-t-ti-ful."

Éponine turned to the first page, still crisp and new. " _From fairest we desire increase, that thereby beauty's rose might never die…_ "

She read the sonnet out loud, her eyes pouring over the page. When she finished the poem, she looked over to see Enjolras leaning against the tree contently, his eyes closed and a smile playing out across his lips. When she gently closed the book, his eyes opened, giving her a sweet look. "Th-that was beau-ti-ful. C-can y-you re-"

"Can I read another?"

He nodded, confirming her guess.

She looked back down at the book before placing it back in his hands. "You read one to me first."

Enjolras paled slightly, a nervous expression filling his face. "I-I-I c-can't-"

"Yes, you can," Éponine encouraged. Enjolras looked at her with concern, but he opened the book with shaky hands.

" _Wh-when f-for-ty w-winters sh-sh-shall be-siege th-thy br-br-ow..._ " he flinched at the sound of his voice, giving Éponine an apologetic glance.

Éponine, however, ignored it. She leaned forward, giving Enjolras an encouraging look. "Keep going."

Enjolras nervously cleared his throat and continued read the poem. " _A-a-and d-dig deep tr-trenches in th-thy b-beauties f-f-field…_ "

Now it was Éponine's turn to contently lean against the tree and concentrate on the sound of Enjolras's voice. As broken as it was, it was still beautiful.

Yes, it was beautiful.

* * *

 **AN: *Nervous laughter* Not too awful, right? Anyway, I hope you guys liked it. I figured if Enjolras was too self conscious about his speech, he wouldn't ever become the leader of the Amis de l'ABC. So, I hope I painted that picture well enough that you guys saw my reasoning? I don't know what I'm doing with my life...Alright, well, favorite/review if you feel like it. I'll hopefully have the other half up tomorrow. We'll see. Depends on how crazy my life is tomorrow. Anyway, thanks for reading :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I know, I know. I said I would post the second half a day after I posted the first. I'm sorry, I lied. It's been a week. My excuse: Finals. But now that's done and over with, so without further ado, here's part two of this two-shot.**

* * *

Éponine and Enjolras fell in a pattern after that day underneath the tree. Both would often arrive at the same spot early in the morning, meeting underneath the old tree. Then, they would take turns reading out of a book Enjolras brought, or sometimes they would chat about this or that, or sometimes they would simply stay silent, leaning against the tree, their hands touching.

Everything was as it should be.

The pair had gone through the book of sonnets within a few days. Next was a book of political essays that Enjolras had picked out. That was done within a week. And now, upon Éponine's request, they were reading another book of poems.

That afternoon, almost two weeks after their first meeting, the two were seated underneath the old tree. Éponine was listening to Enjolras read passages from the book, her eyes closed contently as she listened to him sound out the words. Though he didn't realize it, Enjolras's speech had improved when he read to Éponine. It took a while, but eventually he fell into a rhythm with the words, only stammering over a few phrases. It made Éponine smile.

After a few more sentences, Enjolras stopped, closing the book. Éponine opened an eye to look at him. "Done for the day?"

Enjolras shrugged indifferently, turning the novel over in his hands. Éponine straightened up. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Enjolras said. Éponine didn't believe it for a minute.

"Enjolras," she gently warned. "Tell me. What are you thinking about?"

His blue eyes looked her over with a mixture of affection and sadness. "La-marque is i-ill and f-f-fad-ing f-fast," he shrugged again. "Th-they s-say he w-w-on't last a-no-ther w-week."

Éponine's heart plummeted. She didn't know as much about the revolution as Enjolras did, but she did know that Lamarque's death was meant to be the catalyst for the rebelling of the people. A rebellion that would take the lives of many.

Enjolras gave a heavy sigh. "I-I-I h-have to b-be th-there. At th-the b-b-barri-cades."

Éponine looked away from Enjolras. She knew that Enjolras could very well die if he joined his friends at the barricades. And perhaps it was a selfish thought, but she didn't want him to die. They had become so close over the past few weeks. He had become her closest friend. She rarely saw Marius anymore, and she didn't ever hang about with her father's cronies. So, in a sense, Enjolras was all she had left.

"I-I-I kn-ow you d-don't l-like th-"

"That idea? You're right, I don't. You could get hurt, Enjolras. Or worse."

Now, it was his turn to look away. Éponine softened once she realized that she hit a soft spot. "I'm sorry, Enjolras. I know this is important to you, but you're important to me."

"A-and y-y-you to m-me," he said, still not looking at her.

"But if you die, who will I read poetry with? Who will go on walks with me? Who will listen to me? You're my friend, Enjolras. If you die…" she turned away from him so he wouldn't see her tears.

"É-Éponine…"

One, two, three beats of silence. And then, "Yes?"

"I love you," he said it so clearly, so firmly that Éponine didn't recognize his voice. She turned to him, not caring if he saw her tears.

"What? What did you say?"

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. "Y-You heard m-me."

She let out a small sob. "I think I love you too."

His blue eyes glistened with emotion. "Th-then y-you un-der-stand?"

"No! I don't understand! If I love you and you love me, then you must stay away from those silly boys and that dangerous café!"

"B-but they're m-m-my friends," he pleaded. "I-I-I m-must f-fight for th-em and m-my c-coun-try."

"But what about me? What happens when you go away and get shot and die and I'm left on my own? I can't bear to lose you!"

"Éponine," he said, his voice shaking slightly at the effort to keep it smooth. "I-I-I h-have to d-do this."

Their eyes met. Éponine's brown irises gazed into Enjolras's blue ones. She took a deep breath, "Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?"

His silence said it all. Éponine shook her head, breaking eye contact. "I was foolish to think that I could be loved. To think that I could win a fight for once."

Quickly standing up, Éponine ran away. Away from the tree, away from Enjolras, away from everything that had made her feel special during the past few weeks. She was so busy making her escape that she almost didn't notice the tears streaming down her face or the broken voice that called out after her.

* * *

Coincidentally, Lamarque died that night. When Enjolras heard the news, he felt sick to his stomach, both from nervousness as well as the thought that'd he would never be able to make amends with Éponine. He had searched for her the entire day, combing over the streets of Paris for the woman he loved. He had even gone as far as inquiring total strangers-a rare feat for him. But was all in vain, for Éponine could not, or would not, be found.

Enjolras returned to the Café Musain that night in despair. He could very well die without ever having the opportunity to apologize to Éponine. He joined his brothers in their preparations for war with as much passion as the others, but he still couldn't help his thoughts from turning towards Éponine. Her last words still rang through his head

 _I was foolish to think that I could be loved. To think that I could win a fight for once._

Those words struck Enjolras like bullets. Enjolras did love Éponine. He loved her more than anything else. But he had already made a commitment to the Revolution. And that was a promise he couldn't break.

Exhausted by the night's events, Enjolras fell into a chair beside Grantaire. Grantaire watched his friend as he sighed and ran a set of frustrated hands through his golden hair. He took a swig from his bottle before speaking. "Alright, what's her name?"

Enjolras's gaze snapped up to Grantaire. "H-How-"

"Please, Enjolras, I know a broken heart when I see one. Clearly the only thing ailing you is a troublesome woman. So come on, spit it out. What's her name?"

Enjolras sighed. "É-Éponine."

Grantaire quirked an eyebrow. "The petite brunette?"

Enjolras solemnly nodded. Grantaire gave a hearty laugh. "I thought her heart belonged to Marius."

Enjolras shrugged. "P-Per-haps."

"Well, either way, she's gone, isn't she?"

"Y-Yes."

"Gone forever?"

"I-I-I be-lieve s-so."

Grantaire shook his head and slid his bottle across the table to Enjolras. "Take a swig, mate. You need it."

Enjolras complied, taking a sip of the burning liquid. Grantaire continued talking, "Well, I'm sorry for saying it, but it's probably for the better, right? You might die tomorrow. It's better for her to move on than mourn."

"Y-You know, f-f-for a dr-drunk, y-you can b-be w-w-wise," Enjolras said, sliding the bottle back to Grantaire.

The drunk graciously accepted the bottle. "Enjolras calling me wise? Why, who would've thought that marble heart was capable of a compliment."

"D-Don't m-m-make me t-take it b-back," Enjolras mumbled, standing from his chair.

"Too late. You've said it. No taking it back," Grantaire called out to Enjolras as he walked back to the throng of students. Enjolras rolled his eyes at his friend's wild behavior, but despite Grantaire's attitude, he was right. Perhaps it was better that Éponine had left. It was better for her to find new love and move on than to suffer from Enjolras's death.

Yes, it was good that Éponine was gone. It still hurt Enjolras, but at least she was safe. And now Enjolras could turn his full focus to the Revolution and the upcoming battle.

After all, he had nothing to lose.

* * *

Éponine regretted leaving Enjolras. She was still mad at him, yes. But she wished she could have handled the situation a bit more maturely. She could've talked it out, maybe coaxed Enjolras into staying with her. Instead, she insulted Enjolras and ran away crying.

The morning of Lamarque's funeral, Éponine made her way to the familiar oak tree. She was hoping to find Enjolras sitting beneath its branches, reading a book like every other day for the past two weeks. But when she got there, she found that Enjolras wasn't there. She approached the tree warily, her hands clasped together in solemnity. Of course he wasn't there. He was probably at Lamarque's funeral. He was probably preparing for the Revolution. He was probably a million other places.

Éponine had to blink back tears as she continued down the streets of Paris. Now she would never be able to make amends with Enjolras. He would die and she would never see him again. And that is how it would end.

Unless...

Unless, unless, unless. A million thoughts ran through Éponine's head as she ran down the street. The roads were crowded due to Lamarque's funeral, but Éponine's tiny figure was able to duck around and between people.

She could do it. It might be hard, but she could do it. She could be with Enjolras, she could apologize.

She could see her love again.

* * *

The world had fallen into chaos. Enjolras vaguely remembered the uprising at the funeral, the building of the barricade, the rallying of the people. But one doesn't have much time to dwell on what has happened when a gun is pressed into their hand's and they're told to shoot it.

The first attack had come swiftly and without mercy. The flurry of gunshots made Enjolras confused and disoriented, but he pressed on. He was vaguely aware of a gun pointed at him and the gunshot going off, but he wasn't hurt. So, he continued in the same merciless manner as his enemies.

It wasn't until the fighting ended that Enjolras was injured.

Due to a rash but clever decision by Marius, the national guard was retreating and the students were at ease once more. It was while Enjolras was climbing down the barricade that he heard the small, weak voice call out, "M'sieur Enjolras."

It was quiet yes, but Enjolras knew that voice anywhere. He whirled around searching for the source of that voice, and he froze when he finally found it.

She was at the base of the barricade, dressed in trousers and a tattered shirt, a cap covering her brown locks. She leaned against the barricade, pressing her hand to her stomach, struggling to breath. It didn't take Enjolras long to figure out what was wrong.

"É-Éponine!" He cried, racing to her side.

Once he kneeled by her, Éponine tore off her cap to get a better look at him. "Bonjour, Enjolras," she said, wincing at the pain.

"Ép-o-nine, wh-what a-a-are y-you-"

"What am I doing here? I came to see you Enjolras. And it appears I came to take a bullet for you," she was smiling, but Enjolras could see the pain behind her eyes.

"L-Let m-me get a-a-a doc-tor. W-We c-can fix th-th-this," he said, hating how unsteady his voice sounded.

He moved to lift her, but she held up a hand to stop him. "Enjolras...you aren't mad at me, are you?"

Enjolras would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. "I-I-I c-could ne-ver b-be mad a-at y-you, Épo-nine."

Though she was still in pain, Enjolras could see that she was clearly relieved. "Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were going to die before I could ask forgiveness."

"I-I-I th-thought I-I w-was the o-o-one wh-"

"Who should be asking for forgiveness? Please, Enjolras. I understand why you're doing this, though I'm not happy about it," she once again flinched at her pain. She quietly continued, "Enjolras...I love you too much to be mad at you."

This time, it was Enjolras's turn to feel relief. But that feeling quickly turned to panic once he realized how much blood Éponine was losing. "We n-need t-t-to g-get y-you to a-a-a d-doc-tor."

He once again moved to pick her up, but she once again stopped him. "No...no, don't do that. It's too late for me. If I'm going to die, I at least want to die in your arms. Not on some doctor's table."

Enjolras could feel the tears stinging his eyes, but he complied, taking a seat by Éponine and wrapping her into a warm embrace.

They sat there in silence, doing nothing but taking each other in. Blood dripped from Éponine's wound onto Enjolras, but he didn't care. He couldn't care. All he cared about was being with Éponine before she was gone forever.

"Enjolras?" Éponine said, her voice becoming weaker and weaker by the second.

"Y-Yes?"

"Do you think there will be books in heaven?"

"B-B-Books?"

"Yes...books for us to read."

"I-I-I ima-gine s-so."

"And trees for us to read them under?"

"Pro-ba-bly."

"And will you come find me underneath one of those trees once you are gone?"

"Of c-c-course."

"Will you still read to me?"

"Y-Yes, al-ways."

"Stutter and all?"

"On-ly i-i-if you w-want m-me t-t-to stut-ter."

She laughed at that, but those laughs quickly turned to coughs. And with each painful gasp of breath, Enjolras winced. It pained him to see his beloved in so much agony.

When Éponine's coughs died down, she leaned in closer to Enjolras, holding his arm tightly.

"I'll be waiting for you."

Tears were streaming down both of their faces as Enjolras turned Éponine to he could face her. "I-I-I'll l-look for y-y-you."

"I love you, Enjolras."

"I love you, Éponine," he said, slowly and shakily.

She smiled, and with that she was gone, the last breath leaving her body. Enjolras leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. She was still warm, and her lips tasted of salty tears. Pulling away, Enjolras mourned quietly to himself, still holding on to Éponine.

If there were words to say, he would have said them. But sometimes silence speaks louder than words.

* * *

Enjolras was scared of death. Most men were. But to be standing alone at the topmost floor of the Musain, facing the firing squad, terrified him.

Grantaire had given him a reassuring look as he took his place beside Enjolras, but that didn't calm Enjolras's nerves. He had to firmly clench the flag in his hand to make sure the soldiers couldn't see him shaking.

With one last triumphant breath, he raised the flag high above his head. He scarcely felt the bullets pierce his being, he scarcely felt anything. He only saw his dear Éponine standing above him with a warm smile and open arms.

* * *

 **AN: Thoughts? Hope you all enjoyed it and that this was worth the wait. Please review. Love you guys :)**


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